RTRRO

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The Denim Dreams (and Nightmares)

Let’s start with the fabric that ruled the decade: denim. It was everywhere, and it was extra.

1. JNCO Jeans

These things were less “pants” and more “portable storage units.” The pockets? Big enough to hold a CD player (with extra batteries), a can of Sprite, your math homework, and that note from your crush you weren’t ready to share. I swear, mine could’ve fit a small backpack. They were the enemy of every washing machine—my mom still complains about how they’d hog the entire drum—and the king of the food court, where you’d swish past the pizza stand like you owned the place. Every step made that rustly denim sound? It was a announcement: I’m here, and I’m not trying to be tight. They were heavy—so heavy that if it rained, the hems would soak up water and drag like anchors. But man, wearing them felt like armor. You didn’t just put on JNCOs—you put on a personality.

2. Overalls (With One Strap Down, Obviously)

Two straps fastened? Total mom move. The whole point was that one strap hanging loose—like you couldn’t be bothered with “symmetry” or “rules.” It was a vibe. A carefully cultivated “I just threw this on” vibe, even if you’d practiced it in the mirror three times. Hip-hop artists wore ’em, sitcom characters wore ’em, and suddenly, overalls went from “farm workwear” to “cool kid uniform.” Pair ’em with a ratty band tee or a crop top (if you were feeling bold) and boom—you were laid-back, but not too laid-back. Perfect for skipping class to hang at the mall, or just pretending you didn’t care about your hair.

3. The “Canadian Tuxedo”

Denim on denim. Some called it a fashion faux pas. Others? Called it confidence. West Coast hip-hop artists made this look blow up—oversized denim jacket over matching jeans, like a denim hug that meant business. The best part? It was totally customizable. Slap a “Nirvana” patch on the sleeve, add some safety pins, or distress the knees with sandpaper (thanks, older brother, for teaching me that trick). Mine had a coffee stain on the pocket I swore was “intentional.” Was it? Maybe not. But did it make my Canadian Tuxedo mine? Absolutely.

The Grunge Uniform

If denim was loud, grunge was quiet rebellion. It said, “I don’t care about fashion… which is why this looks so good.”

4. Plaid Flannel Shirts

This wasn’t just a shirt. It felt like a little nod to Seattle, honestly. You could wear it open over a band tee. Roll the sleeves up if you wanted. Tie it around your waist when it got too hot—even if that made you look like a walking picnic blanket. Didn’t care.

The softer it was, the better. The more worn-in, the better. I took my dad’s old red-and-black one. Smelled like his aftershave. Wore it so much the cuffs started to fray. It was my go-to for rainy days. For concerts. For days I didn’t feel like brushing my hair.

Grunge wasn’t about looking polished. It was about being real. And a flannel? Felt realer than anything else.

5. Doc Martens

Doc Martens weren’t just boots—they were for saying something. Chunky soles. That bright yellow stitching you can spot a mile off. And a break-in period that hurt like hell. My first pair gave me blisters so bad they oozed a little. I had to wrap band-aids around my heels for a week. But i refused to take ’em off. Why? Goths wore ’em. Punks too. Grunge kids? Yeah, them as well. They were a badge. It said, “i’m not like everyone else.”

After a couple weeks of limping? They molded to my feet. Suddenly, they were my ride-or-die. Mine went to every punk show. Every messy mosh pit where i got jostled around. Every late-night walk to the corner store with friends. I still have ’em. Scuffed all over. Beat-up at the toes. And totally perfect.

6. Band T-Shirts

Your music taste, worn on your chest. A faded Nirvana tee? You were part of the club. Pearl Jam? Same. Smashing Pumpkins? Instant friend. These shirts weren’t just souvenirs—they were treasure. I found my favorite one (Soundgarden, hole in the armpit) at a thrift store for $2. When someone in math class said, “Nice shirt,” I almost cried. It was like finding a tribe without saying a word. We’d compare shirts at lunch—“Yours is more faded than mine!” “Mine has a set list on the back!”—and suddenly, you weren’t just the new kid. You were one of us.

7. Thermal Long-Sleeve Under a Short-Sleeve Tee

Practicality meets cool. Fall in the 90s meant this combo: waffle-knit thermal peeking out from under a band tee or graphic shirt. It kept you warm, but it also looked like you put thought into your outfit (even if you’d grabbed the first two shirts in your drawer). Skaters did it. Grunge kids did it. I did it when I forgot to do laundry and only had a short-sleeve left. Win-win. It was messy, it was cozy, and it felt like… well, like being a teen.

The Preppy Contingent

Grunge was anti-fashion. Preppy? Was fashion. Bold, clean, and totally unapologetic.

8. Abercrombie & Fitch or Tommy Hilfiger Logo Tees

Grunge tees were threadbare. These? Crisp.

They were thick cotton. Bright logos, too—Abercrombie had that moose, Tommy Hilfiger had the red-white-and-blue one.

They were status symbols. If you had one, you belonged to the “put-together” crowd.

I begged my mom for a Tommy tee for months. When i finally got it? i wore it every other day.

It didn’t smell like dad’s aftershave. No coffee stains, either. It smelled like new clothes. That felt fancy.

The preppy group wasn’t about rebellion. It was about belonging to something polished. And those logos? Shouted it loud.

9. Khaki Cargo Pants or Shorts

They’re the perfect match for that logo tee. there are pockets everywhere—lip gloss, a disposable camera, your allowance, even that crumpled note from your friend. they were clean, casual, and went with everything.

I had a pair of cargo shorts i wore all summer. so many pockets, i’d forget where i put my keys. preppy style wasn’t about being flashy. it was about being effortless. and cargos? they’re the definition of effortless.

The All-Important Accessories

Clothes were great, but accessories? They made the outfit.

10. Wallet Chains

They’re jangly, metallic—half fashion, half security. You’d drape one from a belt loop to your back pocket. That’s where your wallet sat, safe and sound. Skaters swore by them. “Stops pickpockets!” they’d say. But let’s be real—they just sounded cool. Every step made a clink. It was like a tiny soundtrack to your day. I had a silver one. It got tangled in my backpack strap constantly. I’d yank it free, annoyed, but I never took it off. It felt edgy. Kinda practical, too. And it made me feel like a skater—even though I couldn’t ollie to save my life.

11. Puka Shell Necklaces

Beach vibes for people who’d never seen the ocean. Smooth, white shells with little holes, strung on a cord. Even in the dead of winter, wearing one made you feel like you were on vacation. I borrowed my cousin’s once—she’d gotten it in Florida—and wore it until she begged for it back. It smelled like salt (or maybe just my perfume), and I’d twist the shells when I was bored in class. Puka shells weren’t just jewelry; they were a fantasy of sun and sand.

12. Butterfly Clips

If you were a girl in the 90s, you had these. Tiny plastic butterflies in every color—hot pink, baby blue, sparkly silver that almost looked like metal. Before school or a trip to the mall, we’d stick ’em in our hair by the handful. Some to pull back bangs that kept falling in our eyes. Some to make a “fancy” updo—though let’s be real, it just looked like a mess dotted with butterflies.

The best part? The snap when you closed them. Not too loud, just a tiny, satisfying click-snap. It felt like a little signal: okay, you’re ready for the day.

I still find one in my old jewelry box sometimes. it’s crusty, faded, the sparkles mostly rubbed off. but i pick it up anyway. it’s full of memories.

13. Slap Bracelets

It’s simple, but that’s the genius of it. Just a stiff fabric strip. Flick your wrist, and it snaps into a bracelet. We’d slap ’em on between writing notes in class. Trade colors with friends. Try to collect more than anyone else. Teachers hated ’em. They’d say, “Too distracting!” But we loved ’em. Mine was neon green. I wore it until the fabric peeled off in tiny strips. Fun fact? They got invented in the 80s. But the 90s is when everyone went nuts for ’em. And that’s so 90s—taking something old and making it feel cool.

14. Mood Rings

Mystery on your finger. Supposedly, they changed color based on your mood—blue for calm, green for happy, black for stressed. I checked mine constantly. “Why is it black? Am I stressed? I didn’t think I was stressed!” Spoiler: It was just your body temperature. But we didn’t care. It was like having a tiny fortune teller on your hand. I lost mine at the mall (classic), but I still remember the way it turned teal on my birthday. Happy? Maybe. Excited about the new JNCOs I’d just bought? Definitely.

15. Yin-Yang Symbols

Yin-yang symbols—they stood for balance. Harmony, too. That tiny circle, split in two? It made you feel something deep, not just like a random design.

You’d see it everywhere. Necklaces with small metal ones. Tees from the corner mall. Even those temporary tattoos that peeled off after a shower. The kind you’d stick on your hand and show your pals before they faded.

I had a yin-yang sticker on my locker. Glossy, black and white. Right next to my Nirvana poster—obviously, that poster wasn’t going anywhere.

It felt like a secret. Like, “Yeah, I’m into grunge—flannel shirts, loud music, all that. But I also care about… y’know, balance.” Didn’t want to say it out loud. Felt too sappy. But the symbol said it for me.

The 90s were chaotic. Schoolwork stacked up. Fights with friends that felt huge. Trying to figure out who I even was. Everything felt like a lot, all the time.

And that little symbol? It was a reminder. Just breathe. Don’t let all the mess overwhelm you.

Footwear That Defined an Era

Shoes weren’t just shoes back then. They were the last thing you put on that said, “This is who I am.”

16. Platform Sneakers

You can thank the Spice Girls for these. Soles that sat sky-high, chunky shapes, and they made you feel like a pop star. i saved up allowance for months for a pair of Steve Maddens—neon pink, platforms so tall i could barely stand. i wore them to my first school dance and tripped over my own feet twice. But did i take them off? Nope. When you’re 14, looking tall and bold matters more than not face-planting. Brands like Buffalo London made them too—even chunkier, even less sorry for being loud. Platforms weren’t just shoes. They were confidence.

17. Skate Shoes (like Airwalks or Vans)

Made for skateboarding, but everyone loved them. Puffy, padded, and tough enough for tricks—or just walking to the mall. Airwalks were big, Vans were classic, and Etnies? Cool if you were really into skate culture. i had a pair of Vans Old Skools—black and white—that i wore until the soles fell off. The canvas faded, laces frayed, but i kept them on. Then in 1998, Vans dropped the Knu Skool—chunkier, more retro—and suddenly, every kid at school needed them. My friend Lisa camped out at the shoe store for hers. Worth it? She still says yes. Skate shoes weren’t just for skaters. They were for anyone who wanted to be comfortable and cool.

18. Birkenstocks

Hippie sandals for the 90s. The contoured cork footbed that molded to your feet, the straps that never quite fit right but felt like home. Grunge kids wore ’em with flannels. Preps wore ’em with cargos. My mom wore ’em to the grocery store. They were ugly-cute before ugly-cute was a thing. I borrowed my sister’s once—she had the brown ones—and wore them all summer. By the end, they fit my feet perfectly. Birkenstocks weren’t about looking flashy; they were about feeling like yourself.

The Outliers

not everyone fit into grunge or preppy back then. those styles were big, sure—but some kids just did their own thing. these were the outliers.

19. Rave Gear

Neon baggy pants that swished when you walked. smiley faces on everything—stickers, shirts, even hats. rave fashion was made for moving. like, dancing all night in a dark room with friends, no stop. bright pink, electric blue, glow-in-the-dark necklaces or bracelets… wearing it felt like carrying a party with you.

I never went to a rave (my mom would’ve definitely killed me). but i had this neon green bracelet—plastic, super bright. i wore it to school every day. it sounds silly, but it felt rebellious. just a bracelet, yeah. but rave gear wasn’t about blending in. it was about standing out. shining, even.

20. Hip-Hop Inspired Brands

Hip-hop didn’t just change music in the 90s. it changed everything—especially clothes. brands like FUBU, Tommy Hilfiger, and Polo Ralph Lauren blew up because artists wore them.

Snoop dogg put on a Tommy tee? suddenly, every kid at school was begging their parents for one. aaliyah wore FUBU? stores sold out in days. the style was oversized. jackets that fell past your hips, jeans that you had to roll at the cuffs (’cause they were too big). bold, too—big logos, bright colors. it had this vibe: “i’m proud of who i am.”

Hip-hop fashion didn’t stay just with hip-hop fans. it took over the mall. took over schools. felt like it was everywhere, honestly.

We’ve only scraped the surface here. the 90s had so much fashion—weird, wonderful, stuff you can’t forget. some of it makes you cringe now. but some of it makes you smile, too.

So tell me: what was your first-day-of-school outfit? JNCOs and a flannel? a Tommy tee and cargos? did you wear butterfly clips? or a mood ring that never got the color right? share your most embarrassing (or proudest!) 90s fashion memory.

I’ll go first: i once wore a canadian tuxedo—denim jacket, denim jeans—with platform sneakers to a dance. i tripped. twice. but honestly? worth it.